| Who ever thought Cam would grow to gross in the millions?
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| 101 West, you should’ve seen my building
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| 139 Park, started off as children
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| Grew up with Big L and the dude supposedly killed him
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| A week before that though, Big L had tried to kill him
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| That’s what I heard, please don’t get in ya feelings
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| When the time’s right I will tell you about these villains
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| And everybody dead, so it ain’t about squealin'
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| Weapons we conceal 'em, need be, reveal 'em
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| Fly, nah, fly traps was hangin' from the ceiling
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| Milk and Giz was chillin', me and Biz was illin'
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| Love my hood but to make it out, woo, what a feeling
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| I couldn’t sleep at night, in my bed I would keep a knife
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| Until I got a gun, where I’m from they ain’t believe in life
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| Cops come readin' rights, but we ain’t the readin' type
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| You don’t need Adidas or a zebra, see my stripes
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| Goddamn, you got to feel me brother
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| On my block, best friends they kill each other
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| No slouch or homicide to vouch ya
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| How I was raised, think I give a fuck about ya?
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| Keep risin', keep risin' to the top (Yeah)
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| Keep, keep grindin', keep strivin' on the block, and
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| To my brothers that passed away, see you when we get up top
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| All of us, all of us, all of us
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| This is my city (This is my city, Harlem)
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| Uh, yo, Reggie White took me on my first stick up
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| 15 years old, can’t front I caught the hiccups
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| Told me calm down, then proceed to click up
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| Thought that car was a shirt the way we left that shit ripped up
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| 8th Ave, dipped up, in my waist the grip tucked
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| Told me keep my lips shut I ever get picked up
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| I said before that you’ll find me with my wrist cut
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| Just wanted to chill, now in this shit I’m mixed up
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| You know Max B, I call him Charlie Rambo
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| Lived in the same building, you would call a bando
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| Outside more gunshots than Commando
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| That’s why I had to treat myself to Porsches, Lambos
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| Pardon, I get emotional
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| It’s all real, none of it is promotional
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| Just wanted to play basketball and have an ocean view
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| But when you live where I live, what the fuck you supposed to do?
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| Fast forward, Fort Lee, New Jersey, my triplex
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| Son just born, formula by the Pyrex
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| Liquidated money, the drugs from them big checks
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| Been solidified way before Dipset
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| No disrespect to the brotherhood
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| They’re my brothers, but brother I’m from another hood
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| Where it ain’t fair, like Blair they leave you under wood
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| Old money go missin', shots where ya mother stood
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| Keep risin', keep risin' to the top (Yeah)
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| Keep keep grindin', keep strivin' on the block, and
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| To my brothers that passed away, see you when we get up top
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| All of us, all of us, all of us (This is my city, this is my city, Harlem)
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| Keep risin' to the top, keep risin' to the top
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| (Keep risin' to the top) Now, usually, I don’t do this but, uh
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| Let’s break 'em off with a sample of the remix (Keep risin' to the top) |